Have you ever known life to imitate art? Or at least what passes for art? I have. It happened to me. I'm still not sure how much of it I'm responsible for. Maybe all of it.
Perhaps you've read my short story, "The Taking of Heather"? It's a completely fictional tale based on my twisted fantasies and originally written for an online friend as a bedtime story--or so I told him. Yeah, it was all cute and teasing and harmless at the time. The story has made the rounds over the internet since then and has even been posted to a newsletter. Mostly I send it to people I meet online who have similar fantasies. Once again, harmless. We're all fairly anonymous in cyber-space. Even sending pictures doesn't cause any harm....or so I thought.
I met Chuck online after reading a story he wrote called "The Vile Gamer". Like "Heather", it was also written in first-person form....except it was told from a rapist's point of view--it was like a chilling look into his mind. The bragging, ironic tone almost read like a manifesto. I thought it was very descriptive and quite good It was unfortunately posted to a site of the worst-written rape stories I'd ever read. This one was definitely different. I could tell this guy had real talent so I clicked his email link at the bottom of the page and sent simply two words, "Great Story!!" I was pleasantly surprised a few days later when he replied.
We corresponded frequently after that, and even chatted real time through an instant messenger service. Everything was very friendly and "normal". We seemed to have many of the same interests. Of course I sent him "The Taking of Heather". I was dying to know what another writer would think of it. He said it was wonderful. We were a mutual admiration society of two. After seeing my picture posted on my web page he flattered me further by informing me that I would be the subject of his next "Vile Gamer" story.
Ok, so we clicked, but we didn't realize just how much till we did our first roleplay. His writing talent was evident as we did a scene similar to the one in my story--villain breaks in and ravishes the unsuspecting and stoned heroine. It was similar in setting but different as well. Although he didn't terrorize her with phone calls first (a touch I picked up from horror movies), Chuck's villain had more of a vicious mean streak than my Dark One. The things he wrote shocked and thrilled me at the same time. I could actually feel my heart racing at his words. I played off of his lead perfectly (so he said later) and the result was an intensely satisfying drama.
After our roleplay our chats became darker--more focused on our shared fantasies. He vowed to find me someday and make it all real. I suppose I should have been scared--or at least more cautious, but I didn't take him seriously. Why would I? I mean, the guy lived several states away and had a life.
I didn't help matters at all. In fact I made things worse--I know that now. I sent him many pictures of myself in various sexy poses and states of undress. No nudes, but several of them may as well have been. He particularly liked the ones of me gagged. I was even so bold as to record and send him sound wavs of myself trying to beg and scream while gagged. Why did I do it? I suppose it gave me a thrill knowing I was turning someone on from far away. The thought that he was looking at my pictures and listening to my wavs and fantasizing about me made me feel desirable, ....beautiful.
His reactions to the things I sent him were more than satisfying. The internet is truly a paradise for teases.
Unfortunately there was a price to pay, and I was about to pay it....big time.
Every once in a while I go to the movies alone. It probably seems strange to some, but to me it's a wonderful escape. Without a companion it's easy to lose myself in the story and turn off all other thoughts. My husband hates going, and never seems to mind when I go, so when things get to be too much and I need to get out of the house and chill for awhile it's time for movie night.
Sometime in the middle of that week while Chuck and I were chatting, I told him about my movie nights and how I was due for another one. He asked me casually when I was planning to go.
"This Saturday night", was my reply.
"Do you go right after work or wait till the later show?"
"The late one", I answered.
Since becoming manager of the store I work at, I have to work till 7 pm every Saturday, but since I have Sundays off, Saturday nights are perfect for movie night. I have plenty of time to go home first, spend time with my daughter and put her to bed before heading to the theater. My husband, Tom, also enjoyed those few hours to himself.
Chuck was amused when I told him how I liked to get there at least a half-hour early so I can smoke a joint in the car first.
"Well, I hope you're careful not to be seen."
"Oh sure. I park way in the back so I can see all the traffic and I've never been caught yet", I bragged.
"What kind of car do you drive? I hope it's not one that draws a lot of attention."
Oh how casually and cleverly he slipped that question in. Without any trepidation at all I answered that it was a dark blue Bonneville and didn't really stand out that much.
"Be careful..." he wrote, " You could be abducted someday".
I typed a big LOL to that and moved on to another subject. Before the conversation was over, he asked what I planned to go see. His interest in this didn't bother me at all. Why would it?
I didn't see him online again for the rest of the week, but there really wasn't anything unusual about that. Often we'd go for days without catching each other online.
Saturday night finally came. It had been a really hectic week and I was very much looking forward to my little escape and being off the next day. I didn't change clothes; just wore what I'd worn to work that day--dress pants, a light low-cut sweater with sleeves that end at the elbows and my low black heels. Underneath, I had on my red bra, black panties and black thigh-high stockings. Lately I had taken to wearing sexy underthings because they made me
feel
sexy. Sometimes it's a real spirit-booster.
I pulled into the parking lot around 9 p.m. The movie wouldn't start till 9:30 so I had plenty of time to smoke my other little spirit booster. I proceeded to do just that while keeping my eyes peeled for cops or nosy people. It was so pleasant to just sit there smoking and listening to the radio. After I felt sufficiently high and relaxed, I put the roach in my little tin box and lit a cigarette. The movie would be starting in about 15 minutes. I planned to finish the cigarette, park a little closer, then stagger inside and grab a seat.
I remember that a song I liked a lot was starting to play and I reached down to turn it up. When my eyes lifted there was a car cruising very close to mine. It circled me once, then parked right next to me I could see the lone driver--a man with dark hair and dark eyes--staring at me, which made me uncomfortable but not scared. Mostly I was just glad I'd finished my joint.
The man got out of his car, still staring at me. He was handsome...tall, lean but with muscles. I averted my eyes and thought maybe I should put the driver's side window back up. I always keep it up while smoking the weed so passers-by don't get a whiff, but after I'm finished I put it down so the smoke can escape and I can smoke my cigarette without choking. My hand moved toward the button that moves the window up and down electronically, but I was a beat too late, because suddenly his face was in my open window.
Smiling at me he said, "Hi Heather".
I nearly fainted...you see it was just like my story. Heather is my online name.
I opened my mouth to say something lame like "who are you?" but I knew good and well who it was. Only an online friend would call me Heather, and only one online friend knew where I would be this night--and what time and what color car and that I was stoned and muddled. Jeez why didn't I just send him a map and an engraved invitation while I was at it?
Before I could even begin to utter the stupid question on my lips I heard a loud click and was horrified to see a pearl-handled switchblade in his hand. He wasn't overtly threatening me with it--at least not yet. He was still just looking at me--looking me up and down in fact--and holding it lightly and casually in his hand as though it were nothing more threatening than a pencil. My eyes could barely leave the wicked-looking blade. One look at his eyes was even scarier. They were so dark and cold. I felt rooted to the spot...almost hypnotized...frozen with shock and fear.
His next words were spoken in a low and menacing voice that made my blood run cold.
"You're not going to see any movie tonight, you teasing little bitch."
I gasped at being spoken to this way by somebody I thought was a friend, but before I could protest he snarled, "This is what you're going to do. Get out of your car real slow, get into mine and don't make a sound. If you scream I swear it's the last sound you'll ever make Do you believe me?"
